


predilection

by mars (ryoutoutsukai)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryoutoutsukai/pseuds/mars





	predilection

There's a lot of things I want to do with you. I know that I can't. It would be selfish, and you're happy; there's nothing more important to me than that. I'll keep you at arm's length, but I can't help that when I see you, I'm silently delighted. There's a warmth I can't quite place that swells in my chest, and ever since that night, an undeniable, unbelievable desire to keep you safe. I know you don't need it, but it's my nature; I have a proclivity for taking care of people. 

That night. 

Knowing it may never happen again makes me want to forget it. At the same time, I'm desperate to grasp that little piece of you that you let me have for a night, and never let go of it. The way you withheld a laugh, watching me hastily throw pillows and stuffed animals off the bed and kick them underneath. I was embarrassed, but seeing that slight smile on your face relaxed me almost instantly. When you got on the bed, and settled there, you had a nervous expression in your eyes that made me hesitate. So I didn't do anything right away. I put my hand back on your head, and I played with your hair instead. I brushed my fingers through it, slowly, I curled them and rubbed your head in the hopes that I could relax you. Your hair is so soft... I was lost, watching you and listening to you breathe, while my fingers brushed through your hair, again and again. I must have been successful, because your eyes closed and your breathing evened out, and to be honest, I would have been completely content in staying like that, caressing you that way for hours. I would have been grateful to help you sleep, because you need it and god knows you deserve it. It was you who got bold, reaching up and wrapping your arms around my waist, pulling me closer to you... And you were so warm that I couldn't resist it, and when I pulled your hair the breathless noise you made when you tilted your head back was too much for me to handle. I've never had the best self control, but the way you looked at me with your eyes half-lidded didn't help, you scoundrel. 

You didn't make a single thing easier for me afterwards. Every time your hands grazed me, sliding under my shirt or toying with my waistband, sent shivers all the way down my spine. You're a lot bigger than me, a lot stronger. I knew it before, but I knew it intimately then, when my hands trailed down your sides, along your biceps, exploring every part of you that I could. But you were so incredibly gentle. Your movements were slow, as if you didn't want to scare me; you followed where my hands guided, and even when I teased you, you stayed patient with me. I thought my heart would pound out of my chest when I left butterfly kisses all down your neck and shoulders, and whenever my teeth so much as brushed your skin you'd jolt just a little, and it would make my heart jump along with you. I was hesitant to kiss you, to make out with you, as if I might break some unspoken boundary. You initiated it first, leaning up to me a little and moving for it, and I was more than happy to oblige. I kissed you hard, and my teeth caught your lower lip before my tongue found yours. You tasted like alcohol, but I didn't mind. I noticed it from then on, every time I dragged you into a kiss. Your mouth would fall open and I would explore it, and I would taste the alcohol on your lips and it would make me shiver. I felt like I had to know every part of you, and that's why I took my time. I know you don't need an explanation, since you never complained. Every time I would linger on a spot-- you don't realize, you won't, but I wanted to map out every mark on you. Every light scar on your body I wanted to leave a longer kiss on, even if it has long since healed. There are plenty that you probably don't even remember, but I felt like I needed to. Everyone gets hurt, but I wish you never had to be. I know there are things you've gone through, are going through, that I might not ever know or understand. But for that one night, I hoped I could at least make it somewhat better, even if you would never know. Part of me hopes that it _did_ make things better, somehow, subconsciously.

There were tattoos I had to leave a mark on, too. Some I didn't even realize you had. I was so curious, so interested in them, that I had to trace them a little bit with my fingers. You must have been sensitive, because your breath would catch, or your head would twist slightly to one side, or god forbid your back would arch in a way that just about knocked the wind out of me. Every time a low _"fuck"_ tumbled out of your mouth and you'd bite your lip, or your fingers would grip at my arm. At one point, your hand found mine, and you intertwined our fingers and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back and I brought your hand up to leave kisses across your knuckles, to silently reassure you. To reassure you of what, exactly, I don't know. To make you feel better, I guess. To say _"I've got you"_ without having to really _say_ it. You're just something else. You really are. You amaze me in so many ways. 

I wish you hadn't had to leave, afterwards. I was perfectly content to stay there with you until morning. I would've skipped class for you without hesitation. I would've done anything in that moment to stay there, nestled against your chest, with your arm around me. Like you said, I fit perfectly there, the perfect size to curl up beside you. I eased you down from a high by stroking through your hair again. I rested my head on your shoulder and I watched your chest heave, before you relaxed. I kept brushing my fingers through your hair, slowly, slowly from the front to the back, curling my fingers and then starting over again. You edged me a little closer, leaning back a bit, and that's when I laughed a little under my breath. I didn't think you'd hear me, to be fair. But one of your eyes opened, and you gave this little indignant huff and said "What?" "Nothing," I told you, and then I laughed again and assured you, "I just think you're cute." "Hm," you mock-grumbled, but you smiled and your eyes closed again. I'm sorry that I couldn't have been truthful. I _wanted_ to tell you everything; that I was in awe at how astounding you were, that you blew my mind, and that in that moment I would have done anything to just stay there and hold you tighter, to keep you close and protect you so nothing could ever possibly hurt you. But I would never say that, because I know the truth, and I know that for you that night meant next to nothing. I have to tell myself that. I have to assure myself that the way you held me, the way your fingers just barely caressed my palms and trailed through my hair, and down my back, meant nothing. Letting myself believe otherwise would be lethal.

You told me later that I had you in a trance. It made my heart flutter, and then I put my phone face down and squirmed, and I laughed at myself. I covered my face with my hands, embarrassed, and felt a twisting feeling in my heart. It's been a long time since someone's excited me in such a way, that's given me such a raw feeling of happiness to have done well. I liked putting on my front of being dominant, confident, and in control. But the truth was that I solely wanted to please you and to make you happy, and the fact that I achieved it absolutely thrilled me.

I've tried to forget since then, but every night when I'm lying awake and staring at the ceiling I find myself thinking about it. Thoughts of you blow into me like a hurricane before I even have time to take cover. We both know this can't happen again, except under near-impossible circumstances. But when you tell me things like how attractive you find me, and how you've never had someone pay so much attention to you in such a situation before...about how _you want it too_ , it makes my head pound. You crazy bastard! It only makes me want to hold you more. To tell you I can do more, that I can focus my absolute and undivided attention on you and put you back in a trance. There's nothing I want from you in return. It doesn't matter, if I can just take care of you. If I can make you see that I at least care about you, that's plenty good enough for me. Even though I shouldn't, I find myself begging the stars to align in a way that will find me with you in my arms again. You're intoxicating to me. You're a hazard, a **danger** if I've ever seen one. You're too much, and it's killing me.

But you're breathtaking, you know?


End file.
